


Unprofessional

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Age Difference, Biting, Dom/sub, Frottage, Grinding, Hand Jobs, In Public, Kissing, M/M, Power Dynamics, Size Difference, Size Kink, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 14:02:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4103548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy takes a less than <i>polite</i> approach to responding to one of Merlin's reprimands; for some reason, he ends up being <b>rewarded</b> rather than punished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unprofessional

It pisses him off when Merlin gets all fucking **uppity**.

“ _What_?” Merlin says lowly, and he looks at Eggsy with something almost akin to a _snarl_ on his face, lip curled, expression completely fucking sour: how he can go from nice tech man with a cuppa in his hands to military officer is a _mystery_ to Eggsy, but he knows that a) angry Merlin is pretty stern, b) angry Merlin is pretty _fit_ , and c) angry Merlin isn't really to be trifled with.

Of course, Eggsy isn't really to be trifled with, either, and he's not nothing if he's not provocative.

“I said you're _anal_. Y'know, Merlin,” Eggsy says from across the office, having been sternly instructed to do _this_ and  that with Merlin's precious computers, as if he didn't know _how_. “Officious, like. You understand better when I use posh words, eh?”

Merlin's eyes narrow. He is now fitter, angrier, and far more terrifying. Eggsy feels his heart beat a little faster in his chest, feels a slight flush burn at the tops of his cheeks, but he doesn't move, remaining sprawled lackadaisically (another posh word) in his chair.

“Come _here_ , Galahad.” Merlin all but _growls_ the words from where he's sat behind his own desk, overlooking all the computer terminals from his **Mac** , and Eggsy doesn't even fucking hesitate: why should he? Just because Merlin's a bit _scary_ , but what's the worst he can do? He can't get rid of Eggsy now he's an _agent_ , and like Merlin'd said – Harry had been _RIGHT_.

Eggsy strides across the room, computer terminal abandoned, and he moves with his shoulders squared; he doesn't have _quite_ as much confidence as he's pretending to, but he definitely isn't enough of a coward to apologize from all the way over there. To be honest, he's not sure he's going to apologize at _all_ if Merlin's gonna be a twat about it.

Merlin leans forwards, and then he gestures with two fingers for Eggsy to lean: he wants Eggsy to _whisper_ his complaint into Merlin's _ear_. What the fuck sort of bullshit requirement is that _anyway_? What is his _thing_ about it?

Eggsy decides that he's going to acquiesce, but not the way Merlin wants him to – he's just going to be as much of a tit as possible and whisper something that will make the other man _wince_ and **blush** and just _fuck off_. He leans in, mouth almost directly against the other man's ear, Merlin's stubble easy to feel against his own bare, shaved cheeks, the arms of his glasses almost clicking against his own; he can smell Merlin's cologne from here, musky and probably expensive, but at least their chests aren't pressed together like the first time Eggsy had had to do this. Here, at least, there's a desk between them.

Eggsy hadn't known what to do the first time, had almost been too _flustered_ by it, so angry and unsure as he was, pressed against Merlin's chest like that – it's not his fault that the older man is  hot, is it? And it's not his fault that Merlin's a dickhead, either, when he doesn't feel like being _pleasant_. Eggsy isn't really into older geezers, not usually, but there's something about Merlin that just turns him  on, and he hasn't had a shag since Princess Tilde weeks and fucking **weeks** ago.

There's only so much damage control you can do with your own hand and some porn on your phone. Especially when you keep getting sent out on missions.

“My complaint,” Eggsy says in a husky tone, but even trying to put on the fake seductive tone he can't manage it like he can on honeypot missions: he's just too _pissed_ and _irritable._ It's just a laugh, and Merlin might well smack him 'round the head but it'll be worth it to see perfect fucking Merlin _falter_ for a second. “is that you're being a prick about protocol I already know, instead of _shagging_ me over this desk like you know you _**want**_ to.”

There's a pause, and Merlin leans back in his seat, regarding Eggsy with an **impossibly** deep gaze behind his specs, and a completely unreadable expression on his face. He doesn't blush. He doesn't stutter. He doesn't even fucking look _surprised_. A second passes, and then another; Eggsy loses a bit of his nerve, fake smirk faltering on his face. Another tick of the clock, and Merlin's still _staring_ at him: Eggsy feels heat rise in his cheeks, feels like he might just start _crying_ , because he's just fucking come on to a superior Kingsman to try and make him _jump_ and it didn't-

“Stand up properly, Eggsy.” Merlin says, and his tone isn't obviously _angry_ any more, but a shoot of fucking terror runs through Eggsy because he still sounds absolutely _**dangerous**_ , all calm, like, as if he's gonna stand up and stab Eggsy once his posture's alright.

“Shit, Merlin, I'm so-”

“Shut up.” Merlin says, standing up and pushing his chair back with the backs of his thighs, and Eggsy flinches, standing up straight as ordered. Shit, shit, _shit_ , why did he fucking do that? He closes his eyes tightly for a second as Merlin takes a deliberate step around his desk, and then he opens his eyes again, because he's not gonna look like a _coward_ to boot. Eggsy is breathing hard and fast as Merlin steps forwards, behind Eggsy, and then he leans to whisper in _Eggsy's_ ear. He can't feel like he has the upper hand like this, not when Merlin's six inches fucking taller than him and is so bloody broad compared to him, and Eggsy is frozen to the _spot_ as he feels hot breath on the shell of his ear, smells Merlin's cologne again. “If you want me to **shag** you, Eggsy, you'd best fucking ask _politely_ , or the only bending over this desk you'll get is when I tan your fucking _hide_. D'you understand?”

No. No, Eggsy does not understand: it's sort of hard to understand anything when he's thinking of Merlin, angry, fit Merlin, bending him over this fucking desk with _Eggsy_ as the toy of choice instead of Merlin's fancy **Mac**. Eggsy breathes in. Breathes out. Lets out a sort of soft, squeaking noise. He's not angry any more – he's forgotten how to be angry. “Oh my _days_.” Eggsy says in a tiny voice.

“What's that?” Merlin asks, tone deliberate. His hands aren't touching Eggsy, but Eggsy can hear him moving, feel his hands hover over the lower part of Eggsy's back as if he's about to touch – as if he's about to touch and _push_ him over.

“Please?” He can't really manage anything else: all he can do is grab onto the bare handhold of fucking _manners_ , because he can't really grasp onto any of the **OTHER** things he knows how to say.

“ _Please_? Please _what_?” What a **TWAT**. He pauses, just for a few seconds, and then Merlin leans down again, his breath hot against Eggsy's neck: Eggsy just fucking _snaps_.

“ **Please** shag me, oh my God, I'm sorry, please-” It all just comes desperately out of Eggsy's mouth, because suddenly his skin is on fire under the fabrics of his Kingsman suit, suddenly he wants to be _fucked_ instead of _yelled_ at, and Merlin just said he'd _shag_ him--

Merlin's hand _does_ touch now, one broad palm pressing against his lower back over the blazer, and then he grabs at the fabric, pulling Eggsy around and crowding him back against the desk, so Eggsy's arse is pressed against the edge of the wood and Merlin's looking down at him with a raised eyebrow and such a fucking _smirk_ on his smug bloody face that Eggsy feels like **DYING** right there. “ _Eggsy_ ,” Merlin murmurs in a very low voice, full of humour and a sort of _ferocity_ Eggsy is used to, but **really** doesn't have directed at _him_ all that often. “ **You** are an _insubordinate_ ,” Merlin leans in, and his hands are either side of Eggsy's arms and leaning on the desk, and he's so bloody _huge_ compared to Eggsy; Eggsy's slim and lightly muscular, and he's _average_ in height, but Merlin's just bloody tall and his shoulders are broader than the shitty Tory newspaper he reads every fucking morning, “ **rude** little upstart with no respect for authority.”

“I know, innit?” Eggsy says, doing his best to be as rebellious in three words as he can. Merlin **grins** at him, showing off all his teeth, and if Eggsy wanted to get away (he doesn't want to get away: he wants to stay like this for _ever_ , crowded against a desk by a fifty year old bald fucker that for some reason turns him on), if he wanted to (he doesn't), he wouldn't be **able** to. Merlin could take him down in a _second_.

For some reason that's fucking _hot_.

“Do you want me to hurt you, Eggsy?” Merlin asks.

“Uh huh.” Eggsy says, insolently.

“Do you want me to **shag** you, Eggsy?”

“Yeah, _deffo_.” He confirms, with impudence, and with confidence he doesn't actually have. “D'you want me to get my kit off _now_ , or-” He's taking the piss, but Merlin cuts through it before he can keep going.

“Yeah, I do, as it happens.” Eggsy stares at him, and then glances around the (admittedly empty but positively _cavernous_ ) research suite, with its two dozen computers and windows that don't even have **blinds** , let alone curtains.

“What?”

“You heard me, Eggsy. Clothes **off**.” On one hand, Eggsy shouldn't. Unprofessional as it is to come onto a senior agent, it's even more unprofessional to come onto him, then shag him, in the full view of a public room, where any other agent could walk in. On the other hand- Merlin is **REALLY** fit, though.

Eggsy begins to undo his tie.

Merlin steps back, arms crossed over his chest, and he watches Eggsy with an expectant expression on his face, watching with care as Eggsy takes off his tie, his blazer, his shirt, his belt; he starts kicking off his shoes, and only when Merlin furrows his brow so Eggsy stop scuffing the heel of them and lean to untie them properly rather than just trying to kick them off still laced. Once he's naked, Merlin looks at him _appraisingly_ , and then he reaches forwards: time goes slower as Merlin's hand comes towards his cock, and Eggsy stiffens, eyes fluttering closed for a second as he waits for the inevitable hand around his half-hard prick--

And then he feels the hand stroke past his hip. When he opens his eyes, Merlin is sipping from his mug of tea, and Eggsy feels **BETRAYED**.

“ _Merlin_ -”

“ **Eggsy**.” Merlin responds, and he sets the mug down before shifting forwards, grabbing Eggsy by the hair ( _how does someone who types all day have such a strong fucking grip?_ ) so tightly he gasps into Merlin's mouth, and Merlin kisses him **hard** , lips pressing against Eggsy's with such force that Eggsy _whimpers_. Merlin chuckles at that, of course he does, **twat** , but then he slides one thick thigh between Eggsy's legs, and their height difference is suddenly not terrible but _wonderful_ because whenever Eggsy shifts he's grinding right **down** on it. And he can't _**not**_ shift when Merlin's kissing him like this; their lips make soft, _smacking_ sounds as Merlin kisses him so hard Eggsy's head is spinning, and when he wants to change the angle he just pulls Eggsy by the hair and _moves_ him like Eggsy's just a fucking doll and God, fuck, it's so _good_ -

Eggsy's cock is sliding soft and _perfect_ against the black fabric of Merlin's trousers, and Eggsy whines when Merlin presses his leg up **just** an inch higher, forcing Eggsy further against the desk (there's going to be a line of **red** on his arse from pressing against the edge of the damn thing later on but he doesn't even _give_ a shit) and giving him the _slightest_ bit more friction as he grinds his hips down. “D'you like that, Eggsy?”

Eggsy nods, feeling sweat on his flushed cheeks as Merlin leans, sucking marks and leaving small, stinging bites over the thin flesh stretched over Eggsy's collarbones (low enough that the marks won't show) as Eggsy just tries to thrust his hips faster, tries to rub the base of his cock harder against Merlin's leg – God, he must look **pathetic** , and he's just so fucking _high_ with it all right now he could scream. “Yeah, yeah, _God_ , I fucking like it, Merlin-”

“Good.” Merlin murmurs. “Are you going to come?”

Eggsy doesn't really manage a **word** as a response; he lets out a sort of breathy, keening wheeze as Merlin sucks a **massive** bruise into the skin of his neck, thumbing over one of Eggsy's rock-hard nipples as he does so. Eggsy nods, though, nods desperately, and Merlin laughs, reaching for his cock and beginning to _wank Eggsy off_ , and his hand feels **GOOD** , hard-skinned and deft and Eggsy is going to **die** before he fucking comes.

Merlin **twists** his hand, thumbing over the little bundle of nerves under his cockhead ( _frenulum_ , Eggsy's honeypot training supplies unhelpfully, as all of Eggsy's other thought processes go right out the windows) and Eggsy almost **screams** , but Merlin's other hand claps over his mouth and muffles the sound.

Eggsy twitches and squirms in Merlin's hands as he comes, as he feels his cock sputter and the coiled tension in his stomach abruptly fade away into a sort of **blissful** heat, and when Merlin lets him go Eggsy _flops_ backwards onto the desk, limbs akimbo as he tries to catch his breath. There's a pause as Eggsy tries to remember how to live, think and **breathe** like a person who hasn't just had a handy from fucking Merlin, and then the older man clears his throat.

It's not awkward, or subtle – he just wants Eggsy's attention, and he gets it.

Eggsy goes **PALE** as he looks at Merlin's expensive, tailored trousers and the bottom of his ugly dad jumper, both stained with ropes of white that are rapidly fading into the fabric as a wet, shiny grey. “Aw, _shit_.”

“I'm going to sit behind my desk,” Merlin says, stepping deliberately around it and getting into his chair again, easy as you fucking please, “And you're going to get dressed, and you're going to go and get me another jumper and another pair of trousers. And, Eggsy?”

“Uh huh!?” Eggsy says half-hysterically as he haphazardly scrambles into his trousers and shirt.

“You'd best bloody **HOPE** no one needs me to _get up_ in that time.”

“I fucking do, Merlin.” Eggsy replies, flushed red and high as a kite despite his retaining power, and he rushes off down the corridor with his tie tied around his neck and not in the collar of his shirt, and one shoe still unlaced.

 


End file.
